


Alpha and Omega

by xfandomwritingsx



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 14:50:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17185037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xfandomwritingsx/pseuds/xfandomwritingsx
Summary: You're an Omega and don't get along with Derek, but fate keeps pushing you two together.





	1. Part One

The car is quiet, completely devoid of sound save for the mechanical noises of the vehicle itself. The air is thick though. It’s hot and sweaty even with the air conditioner on and the tension, the anger, the absolute irritating _hatred_ consumes every molecule sitting between you and Derek.

His knuckles are white gripping the steering wheel and his stare stays steady on the road ahead, glaring so hard that if it could physically feel it, the road would probably crack. You have a hard time keeping your own scowl off your face. _He_ has no right to be mad at you and even with that fact, you had apologized already.

“We’ll stop for the night in a while,” he says gruffly, eyes never leaving the road. The sun is finally starting to set and you can feel the moon start to rise up.

“Whatever,” you huff back, crossing your arms over your chest and sinking down into your seat. You kick your feet up onto the dash which earns you a pointed glance from the stubborn Alpha. You dig your heels into the plastic a little harder just for good measure. Truth is you’re dying to stop at any motel so you can change out of your torn and bloody clothes, maybe even get the chance to shower. You’ve been on the road for a few days now with only Derek for company… or for what can even slightly pass as company. 

You could kill Deaton for suggesting you go along. If you didn’t owe him a favor, and didn’t love him like family, you might have just told him fuck no. Obviously, that wasn’t how things played out. So you ended up here, on a road trip to hunt down some creature that wants to kill you. With Derek. Joy.

It’s no secret you and Derek don’t like each other. The simple fact that you were an Omega makes him weary of you, which in turn makes you hostile towards him, which then makes him hostile towards you in a never ending circle. You purposely try to steer clear of Beacon Hills for that reason alone, but lately there’s always something bringing you there and it’s starting to piss both of you off. This trip wasn’t even the icing on the cake. It was the little plump cherry on top that taunts you. This was unnecessary.

Derek handles getting the rooms set up for the night. He gets one for himself and one for you and of course they are right next to each other. You’re not sure if it just happened that way because he bought them at the same time, or if he requested it to make sure he heard you if you tried to pull something. You don’t bother asking.

You snatch the key out of his hand, grab your bag, and march straight to your room. You don’t even acknowledge him before closing the door behind you, blocking him out as much as you can. It was one of the downsides of being werewolves; you were never quite rid of each other. If either of you wanted, you could listen in on the other, smell them, know exactly what they’re doing. It left little room for guaranteed privacy.

It makes you uneasy just how little privacy you have with Derek in general. The Hale family is one of the few who know your history and you try not to associate with people who know your story, but it’s proved to be inevitable with him. He has been fairly quiet about it though, which you’re thankful for.

The first time you met, everyone was at the clinic and when you walked in, Derek visibly stiffened. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned so hard into the wall you thought he was trying to mold it. Deaton introduced you, told them you were an Omega who could help.

“I thought Omegas died off quick?” Stiles had comment, eyebrows squinting down. “Shouldn’t you have a pack?”

“She did,” Derek answered harshly. That time you stiffened up, waited for him to spill, to air your dirty laundry in front of everyone. Instead, he simply glared and said, “It didn’t work out for her.” You recovered quick and gave a sturdy shrug, trying to be lighthearted.

“I’m better off alone for the most part.” You quickly steered the conversation away from it. As far as you know, it hadn’t been brought up again to the rest of the pack. Derek, however, made little sharp comments around you, making sure you remembered he knew what happened, like he was holding something over you.

There was a minor blow up a few weeks ago between the two of you that still hasn’t fully settled down yet too. You had broken “formation” as Derek called it during a training session. Why you were a part of the training session, you still don’t understand, but you had been there and Derek insisted so you humored him.

“What the hell was that?” he barked at you once the others had left. Honestly, you were surprised he waited that long.

“I did what was best at the time.” You shrugged and turned away from him, ignoring him as best you can. You could hear him stomp up behind you.

“For yourself maybe,” he growled, grabbing your arm and spinning you around. You ripped your arm back from him. You hated when he touched you, grabbed you like he had the right to do so. “We work together around here.”

“Oh please,” you scoffed. “By work together you actually mean you bark orders and expect people to follow.”

“I’m the Alpha,” he shouted as his eyes started to tint red. “That’s my job! Your job is to follow.” The mere suggestion infuriated you. You were just supposed to blindly follow? Yeah, right. You took a step forward, putting your face right up next to his, invading his personal space more than you really wanted to.

“You’re not _my_ alpha,” you growled. “So you can glow your red eyes at me all you want. I’m not impressed.” You shifted your own eyes, their regular color morphing into a sharp blue. You didn’t bring your eyes out often. You didn’t like the stigma attached to them most of the time, but right now, you wanted it. You wanted to look tough, ruthless, and uncaring. “And the next time you fucking grab me like that, you better be planning on giving me a hard fuck or getting punched in the face,” you spat bitterly. He faltered a little bit which gave you satisfaction. You turned on your heel and had marched away after that.

Once you put your bag down on the stiff motel bed, you go immediately to the bathroom. You shut the door and take solace in the fact that it doesn’t share a wall with Derek’s room. He could still probably hear you just fine, but it was another layer of privacy at least. You pull back the shower curtain and twist the knob on the shower.

There’s some pipes creaking and the slightest clanking or grinding, but no water comes pouring out of the spout. You twist the knob off and then back on again, but still nothing. A growl comes up from your throat and you can feel your teeth shaping into points out of anger. You try it one more time and when nothing happens, you hit the side of your fist into the tile and let out a small roar.

You could call the front desk, demand they fix it, but you know it probably wouldn’t do you any good and you’d simply have to wait even longer to finally get a shower. Plus, the bloody clothes might make them raise an eyebrow. So your only viable option now, is to go knock on Derek’s door.

Begrudgingly, you sweep up a set of clean clothes and toiletries into your arms and stomp out of your motel door. It slams behind you and you don’t even feel bad that it’s loud. You bang your knuckles on Derek’s door and wait impatiently for him to answer it.

“What?” he snaps when the door swings open.

“I need to use your shower,” you state, not even waiting for him to answer before shouldering your way past him. You can hear him huff in annoyance, but just ignore it. He closes the door and turns to face you.

“Why mine?” Irritation is painted all over his face and it bothers you. It’s not like you _want_ to be here either.

“Mine doesn’t work.” You waltz yourself towards the bathroom and pause before walking in. “Do you need in before I shower?” You think it’s quite nice of yourself to even offer. He doesn’t seem to care.

“No,” he answers gruffly, turning away and walking to the bed. You shrug and go to take your shower.

It’s not until you get into the steamy water that you can smell it. Amid the smells of the blood, anger, and frustration washing off of your body, there’s another, subtler smell in the air. It’s bitter and coarse and the only way you can describe it is that it smells like tension. It’s purely Derek, has his scent swirling all around it. You ignore it the best you can.

It feels good to be clean and put fresh clothes on. Wearing your sleep shorts lets a breeze hit your legs that you’ve missed being clad mostly in tight fitted pants on the trip. Top it off with a loose t-shirt that doesn’t cling to you makes you feel a bit freer and relaxed.

After running a brush through your hair, you gather your things and step back into the bedroom. Derek’s sitting on the bed doing absolutely nothing except looking down at his hands. It’s a little weird and creepy and kind of sad looking. You clear your throat and he looks up at you. He inhales a deep, sharp breath.

“Done?” he snaps. You roll your eyes.

“Yeah, Derek. I’m done.” You move to walk towards the door when you hear him mumble under his breath.

“Couldn’t think about anyone else for a minute,” he whispered harshly. You spin to face him, hand on the door knob.

“Funny,” you quip. “I thought I already did that today.” You’re ready to leave it there, to have the last word and walk out, but he suddenly stands, pushes himself off the bed and tries to seem tall. 

“You have no idea what it means to be in a pack,” he tells you firmly, like it’s a simple fact you should already know. You really wish you had opened the door just so you could slam it shut now.

“I saved your life today, Derek!” you shout, composure breaking. “You could just say thank you! I could have left you there. I could have sacrificed you and left you to die so I could get out, but I didn’t!” He tilts his head, like he’s got you in a corner. 

“Why? Decide you didn’t like how it turned out the last time you did it?” You don’t want to admit it, but his words sting. Your skin bristles up and a whole new flood of anger floods through you, trickled with just a little bit of hurt.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your voice is low, a near growl when you speak. Derek crosses his arms over his chest.

“I don’t?” he taunts. “You killed your whole pack.” You throw everything in your arms to the ground and swiftly stomp up in front of him. He looks unfazed as your eyes turn blue. You can feel the shift, but you can’t stop it. Your nails turn to claws and you can feel your teeth narrow into points.

“They were going to kill me,” you tell him, glaring at him with everything you have in you. “Did you know that?” Of course he didn’t. Not many people did. “They were going to lure me out to the woods, chop me up, and spread my body around for a sacrifice.” His expression doesn’t change and you can feel your shift reversing, the anger slowly being replaced with little waves of sadness, regret, and loss. “I heard them all talking one night. ‘For the good of the pack’ they all said. These were people I trusted, people I loved. They were my family and they were going to kill me, turn me over to an ancient beast for eternal slaughter.” His face starts to soften and you can see the falter, see the _pity_ seep through. “So yeah. I killed them first. I lured the beast right to them and let them go down while I slipped away. I listened to them scream, howl, cry for help, _my_ help, as I left.” You try like hell to push back the tears you feel brimming up in your eyes. “So no. A pack has never worked out for me and when you tell me you work together, you do things for the good of the pack, maybe you’ll think twice and realize why it leaves the bitter taste of blood in my mouth.”

You don’t give him the chance to react, don’t give him the satisfaction of reaching out to you and apologizing, of maybe reaching out to comfort you. Fuck him. You don’t even grab your things before you walk out, slamming the door so hard you’re sure it splinters. 

Fuck Derek Hale.


	2. Part Two

In the few seconds it takes you to get back to your room, you’re shaking and tears are coming down your face. You hate yourself like this. You hate the vulnerable look and feel of crying, of letting the past still get to you like this. It was over. It was done.

But it still fucking hurt.

You’re much more careful with your door, pushing it gently shut. The last thing you need is for your door to be broken. It’s just one little layer of protection and privacy and it really doesn’t mean much, but you want it there. You try to be careful with your movements even though you really just want to hit something. When you get upset, your strength goes through the roof and you’d rather not ruin any more property tonight.

You sit yourself down onto the bed, trying to take deep breaths to steady yourself. You clasp your hands together in your lap to keep them from shaking. The deep breaths help. They’re controlled and even, forcing the crying to cease which immediately makes you feel better. There are nights where everybody needs a good cry, where it’s more than okay to break down and cry until you can’t breathe. Tonight is not one of those nights.

Once you feel a little bit more like yourself, you push up off the bed and into the bathroom. The pipes still don’t work, but you use toilet paper to dry your eyes and wipe away the snot. You avoid looking at the mirror, don’t want to see your eyes puffy and red. You make the decision to simply go back into the bedroom and crawl into bed for the night. Put everything behind you.

That decision gets blown to bits when there’s a soft knock on your door. You scream internally, really, truly _scream_. In your mind, it’s one of those screams where your body tenses up and a high pitched, shrill screech releases from your lungs. The kind that would make even Lydia flinch.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

You move your feet swiftly across the floor, making sure not to stomp. A part of you hopes it’s just a motel worker or someone selling something or a murderer even. But not, as you suspected you would, you find Derek standing outside your door when you open it.

“What?” you snap, thankfully your voice has recovered enough not to crack. Derek doesn’t look angry for what might be the first substantial time in your relationship, if you dare to even call it that. He looks apologetic, regretful, and uncomfortable.

“I owe you an apology,” he says softly. You’re not sure if you want to let him speak or if you want to punch him in the face. Unable to decide, you walk away from the doorway, leaving the door open for him to do whatever he wants. Surprising you, he steps in behind you and closes the door. “I didn’t know about your pack.”

“That’s a sucky apology,” you quip bitterly. There’s a small satisfaction in watching him tense up in irritation. He lets it go and shoves his hands into his pockets.

“I probably shouldn’t have been so quick to judge,” he tells you. You have a hard time not nodding your head and rolling your eyes.

“You going to apologize or just tell me what I already know?” You can see him bite his tongue inside of his mouth and you don’t care. You’re out of patience and kindness for the night.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says. You can actually appreciate how he tries to hide his frustration to say those words. He means them, but it doesn’t mean he has to like saying them. “Had I known, I wouldn’t have said some of those things. I know what it’s like to have family-”

“No you don’t,” you cut him off harshly. You cross your arms over your chest and that anger is starting to flare up again. “You don’t know what it’s like, Derek.” You’re passed the yelling point with him. Your voice is dark, low, you’d even say chilling if it wasn’t still broken from the tears. “This wasn’t like your uncle betraying you. You see that coming. This was like your mother stabbing you in the back. It’s Scott deciding to let you die and to save himself. You haven’t felt that.” Derek looks down at his shoes.

“No, I haven’t,” he admits. “But someone I trusted did murder most of my family.” You haven’t forgotten about his history with Kate, but you didn’t exactly equate the two stories. “So I do get the whole trust and betrayal thing.”

You both just stand there a moment. Neither of you want to break the silence first. You don’t want to admit he’s probably the one person who can get close to understanding it, don’t want to release your anger at him. He’s just not sure if he should keep talking or if he should leave.

“I’m not going to turn on you,” you say honestly. Derek looks at you and takes just a few steps closer.

“You’re asking me to trust you,” he states, still walking until he’s standing right in front of you. It makes you uneasy. At least when he was further away, you could pretend like he wasn’t able to see your cried eyes. “How about you trust me a little bit too?” he offers.

“I think that’s fair.” You nod and lower your arms to your sides. He nods back and there’s a moment where you feel like you should touch. A handshake maybe. Some kind of contact to signal a truce. Neither of you reach out though so you simply stand there and look at each other.

It’s the first time you’ve felt any kind of real attraction to Derek Hale. You aren’t blind. He’s always been an attractive man. It never surprised you that girls threw themselves at him. But right now, you actually felt it. There’s a softness in his eyes and an understanding hanging in the air that connects you to him. The urge to touch him in some way grows a little stronger.

“And thank you.” His voice is almost a whisper as his eyes drop down away from your eyes just slightly.

“For what?” You practically mimic his voice, bringing it down to a softer level. You find your eyes drawn to his lips when he speaks.

“For today,” he says. You almost jump when you feel his fingers brush your hand. Apparently he felt the same need to reach out that you did. You both look down towards your hands. “For not leaving me there.” He retracts his hand and your eyes meet again. You simply nod once again, unsure of what else to say. “If you ever need to talk…” he lets his offer hang unfinished, but you know what he’s saying.

“You’re still not my alpha,” you say a little colder than you mean to. Derek visibly straightens out. He stuffs his hands back in his pockets and leans back.

“I know,” he answers. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” With that, he turns and walks back to the door. He’s not offended, not upset, but you both know the conversation is over.

“Goodnight, Derek,” you give a halfhearted wave when he opens the motel door and exits. You don’t know why, but you walk up to the door and put your hand on the handle as though you’re going to open it. You know you’re not. There’s nothing left to say. Maybe apologize for breaking his door, but not much else. It would be stupid to go after him, so to say.

So you simply turn the door lock and walk back to the bed. You climb into it and turn off the lights, trying not to think too much. Hoping for a better tomorrow and an easy ride home. 


	3. Epilogue

Things have been different between you two since that night at the motel. You still aren’t exactly friends, and you _definitely_ aren’t pack, but you are polite, cordial, and you give each other the space to trust one another. You stopped doing things _just_ to irritate him and he stopped making little jabs about your past. Things have actually been good.

You still bicker. You still clash and flash your eyes at each other. There are times when you really, really just want to bark at him and walk away and never come back. You’re sure there are times when he just wants to throw you out and lock the door. Neither of you do though. You get stubborn and stare each other down until the tension dies or someone interrupts.

There are only two things that really bother you anymore. One is that the little hint of attraction you had that night, is still there. You’d even venture to say it’s growing. You’ve found yourself sticking around Beacon Hills a little longer than necessary on more than one occasion and if you let yourself admit it, it was because you’ve started to like being around Derek. 

The other thing, is that he keeps pushing you to join his pack. It’s such a complete turnaround from a few months ago when he did everything he could to keep you away from the pack. He’s only started pushing in the last few weeks as far as you can tell. It started subtle and by now it’s just flat out telling you that you should be with them.

“Derek!” you finally snap. You’ve tried to be nice about it, but you’re done. “Just stop,” you tell him, turning away and trying to decide if you should head straight for the door or not. “I’m here for you guys if you need me.” You try to lower your voice, mask the frustration and anger in hopes that he’ll see the truth in it. “Call me and I’ll be there. I will fight with you and help you and do whatever you guys need, but I am _not_ part of your pack.” You turn back to him, not ready to leave and trying to stop yourself from pacing.

“You should be,” he fires back. “It doesn’t have to be ours, but you should be part of a pack.” He’s standing up straight, trying to tower over you from halfway across his living room. You hate that stance. That’s his _I’m the Alpha and you should listen_ stance.

“I’m an Omega, Derek,” you say, holding in the growl you really want to release. Derek rolls his eyes.

“You don’t have to be,” he practically scoffs. The anger starts to boil inside of you. 

“And you don’t have to be a dick,” you quip at him. He looks only slightly taken aback as he tilts his head a fraction and stiffens his shoulders. You find yourself walking back to him. That’s your power move. It’s somehow harder for him to stand over you and tower and glare when you’re in his personal space. “I’m an Omega,” you repeat firmly. “That’s who I am and just because we’ve reached some kind of common ground between us doesn’t mean I’m suddenly going to run into your arms and call you Alpha.” He lets out a huff of air like he’s frustrated, but you can see his resolve fading in his eyes. He knows all of this already. You just can’t figure out why he keeps arguing about it. “I know you have pack ranking and control issues, but let it go. You’ve got me as close as you’re going to get me.”

You didn’t mean it as a physical thing, really you didn’t, but the moment you said it, you realized just how close you had gotten to him, just how far into his personal space you went. He’s _right_ there. If you teetered on the balls of your feet just a little, your chest would bump into his. Your stomach starts to tighten and you force away a blush that’s trying to rise up as you stand there and hope to hell he doesn’t think you’re flirting with him.

“You just… You need a pack,” he says stubbornly. He’s frustrated which makes you frustrated. You let your head drop back and groan.

“Why?” you don’t really mean to shout so loud, but you find yourself yelling in his face. “What does it matter if I’m part of a pack or not?”

“You’d be safer!” he shouts back, barking right back in your face. You have no response. Part of you is still flooding with anger, the other part is slowly starting to realize what he actually said. Hidden beneath the huffy yelling, he’s caring. Derek cares about you. He wants to make sure you’re safe.

You have absolutely no idea what to do with that. 

This is usually the part where you stare at each other angrily until the tension fades. This time though, neither of you can seem to look each other in the eyes. You find yourself just looking straight ahead at his chest, his own eyes looking down at his feet. Minutes pass and the tension doesn’t fade; the anger does, but the tension doesn’t. If anything, it rises. The air starts to feel hot and thick.

It’s been a long time since someone told you they cared, even if it wasn’t in so many words. That attraction is starting to well up in your chest again and for the first time, judging from the way he’s not looking at you and the way you can hear his heart jump every once in a while, you think he might be feeling it too.

He reaches out and lets his fingers brush your hand. You don’t stop him.

“I could keep you safe,” he says softly. He says it almost like an admission, like he’s saying something he’s been hiding, like he’s saying all those things neither of you are actually willing to say yet. His eyes meet yours and the fingers on your hand are slowly tracing up your arm. You have to stop yourself from reaching out and touching him back.

“I don’t need a protector,” you tell him gently and his eyes drop to your mouth. You meant to say it with more conviction. A part of you thinks you should be angry, thinks he’s treating you like a helpless girl. The other part tells you to shut up.

“I know.” That’s all that it takes to shut down the angry part of you. He knows, but it’s not stopping him from _wanting_ to protect you. His fingers reach your shoulder and brush up towards your neck. He leans in just a little bit, making you feel light and dizzy.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, your voice almost nothing but breath as his fingers brush around to cup at your neck, thumb gently moving back and forth at the spot just under your ear.

“I don’t know,” he whispers back, still watching the way your lips move. He gives a gentle pull at you with his hand, bringing your face closer to his. You don’t resist when he leans down and captures your lips in a smooth kiss.

The feel of him against you literally takes your breath away. You try to breathe in through your nose, take a deep breath, but your chest tightens and the air gets caught in your throat. It heightens everything else flooding through your body.

His beard scratches against your face roughly, but not painfully. That attraction in your gut finally flares up in full butterflies in your stomach. His mouth slants against yours, pulling you deeper into the kiss and your hands find themselves flattening against his chest just to feel him.

He pulls back slowly and your eyes slowly flutter open to see him. He looks up from your mouth, his eyes darkening into their red color as a small smile tilts the corners of his lips. It’s the first time you’ve thought those eyes look good on him. 

“You’re still not my Alpha,” you say mostly out of reflex. His small smile widens and you can’t help but return it.

“I got that,” he tells you, eyes not fading from their red color but letting out a small laugh. You laugh along with him and realize that at some point, your own eyes have shifted. The chuckles break the tension and when Derek pulls you forward again, it’s easier.

It’s harder and more passionate. Your mouth opens under his and your hands reach up to cart through his hair. His other hand curls around your hip and brings you flush against him. You hate that your body molds to him so easily, that you like the way it feels.

When he pulls away this time, you’re both breathing a little heavier.

“We don’t have to-” he tries to say. You grip the fabric of his shirt by his collar bone and interrupt him, uncaring what it was he wanted to say. 

“Shut up, Derek,” you tell him. You press against him, push him back against the wall. “Just shut up for a little while.”

He doesn’t speak after that.


End file.
